Do I need millions of strangers to tell me I appear intoxicated? Probably.

I like to pretend that I am ahead of the curve on all the flyest shiznittles that the hepsters are doing these days, but, let's face it: who am I kidding? I just got an iPod. Eight years later. For Mother's Day. While I was wearing a fanny pack. Haha. I wasn't actually wearing the fanny pack. I was loading it with supplies. Also not true, but, being a bit of a trendacular oracle, I will tell you this: Mark my words. All the freshest g's are gonna be sporting the pack again in the very near future, and you'll wish you hadn't tossed yours aside with your wobegone Rick Astley tapes. The Ast is coming back, and so is the assluggage.

Anyway, so tonight I caught wind of the dopest trend to hit the pervitudinous Web of the World since droves of sixteen year old Lolitas with a dream began flashing their lacy purple pushup bras on their sparkly-slash-emo-bedecked-myspace pages while perfecting the perfect amount of kissyfaced angst meets coy comehither glance for their pimply bio labpartners and also all the boys in Cellblock M. It's called Facestat, and it's marketed as "Market research for the individual." What that means is, you go there, and you can upload a picture of yourself for all the gawkers of the world to judge your attractiveness level, your weight, your sexual orientation, your trustworthiness, your level of intoxication, and much, much more. It's intriguing, really, in an ohmygod, am I really looking at this mess kind of way.

Have a looksee at this lady (I like to call her Patty):

Lemme give you a closeup so you can see what the world thinks of Patty, whose picture is on the opening freaking page of this website.

The world has proclaimed that she isn't gay, she's "definitely gay," and, by the way, not to be trusted. Why? Because her big old 40 year old smile and "hate it" haircut scream to us that she is a "serious stockbroker." Er, what?

Need more? Here's more.

Now here's an unfunny middle aged, middle class chunk of a honky who we'd definitely trust with our leftwing conspiracy theories, but who will not be returning home to the boudoir with us for an old romp between the sheets, no sir!

I don't know. I'm feeling a little skeeved by this entire facestat.com phenomenon (by the way - do NOT accidentally type facesat. Oops. Different idea entirely).

Would you do me a really big favor, though, and add your picture up there and, like, eight people who you hate, too, and let me know how it turns out? I just don't know if my balls are big enough right now to find out that a zillion people think I am a skanky yet trustworthy drunk with bad hair. I wanna know how you fare before I do it. I dare you.